Me and Amos
There is just something about a guy's first car, that first sweet taste of freedom. Mine was a 1970 Dodge Polara just like the one in the picture above, except mine was ten years older with 102,000 miles on it. What a ride! I named my car Amos Sherman Hill - Amos because I like Bible names, and Sherman because it was a tank. It was huge, just two doors, but they were about six feet long. I could lay down in the trunk and not touch either side.
I drove that old car another 90,000 miles. Off to college with all my stuff and back home every few weeks with a load of dirty laundry. Back and forth all summer long to the grocery warehouse where I worked to pay for college. And on the weekends Amos and I would head north from the campus to the little country church where folks first called me "pastor." I have lots of memories of hauling kids to camps and retreats, a youth trip to Colorado Springs, and summer weekends at the lake. Still our journeys continued.
I vacuumed him out and hosed him off before I picked up Suzanne for our first date. And Amos was absolutely spotless, waxed by hand and shining like a dime, complete with new seat covers, on our wedding day.
My dad, also a pastor, was concerned before we got married that Suz might not be aware of the financial realities of a minister's life. "Does she know that you are never going to make a lot of money? Does she understand that you are never going to live in the biggest house or drive the biggest car?" I had to take exception to that. "Dad, I already drive the biggest car."
That first car is like a long lost friend, but we'll never be together again. I loved ol' Amos. I wish I had him still. Have you got a story to tell, that first car, that first set of keys? Let's hear it.
I drove that old car another 90,000 miles. Off to college with all my stuff and back home every few weeks with a load of dirty laundry. Back and forth all summer long to the grocery warehouse where I worked to pay for college. And on the weekends Amos and I would head north from the campus to the little country church where folks first called me "pastor." I have lots of memories of hauling kids to camps and retreats, a youth trip to Colorado Springs, and summer weekends at the lake. Still our journeys continued.
I vacuumed him out and hosed him off before I picked up Suzanne for our first date. And Amos was absolutely spotless, waxed by hand and shining like a dime, complete with new seat covers, on our wedding day.
My dad, also a pastor, was concerned before we got married that Suz might not be aware of the financial realities of a minister's life. "Does she know that you are never going to make a lot of money? Does she understand that you are never going to live in the biggest house or drive the biggest car?" I had to take exception to that. "Dad, I already drive the biggest car."
That first car is like a long lost friend, but we'll never be together again. I loved ol' Amos. I wish I had him still. Have you got a story to tell, that first car, that first set of keys? Let's hear it.
Comments
You definetly hit a soft spot - my first car was a "66 Mustang Fastback, 4 barrell! Spanish Moss Green! What every 16 year old needs - and gets when her Dad longed for one himself but was and is too practical to acknowledge that. I happen to know you can get eight people in one of those - can't drive it anywhere, but the counting was fun! Rick, for some reason always wanted to take it on our dates, he had a Ford Fairlane.(sp?) I drove it for 6 years, and then my sister for 4 more. Dad sold it for more than he paid for it. We didn't have the money at the time to buy it from him. I've since found out it's sitting in a Doctor's garage in Joplin - going to look it up in a couple of months. Rick's offered to buy me a new one - but it's the only one I would ever want!
Amos wasn't the fastest car in the world. It was more like driving your family room. Thanks for sharing your stories and making lots of people jealous.